


to direct the mind on

by somehowunbroken



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Magical Realism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-14
Updated: 2019-05-14
Packaged: 2020-03-04 22:12:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18821785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/somehowunbroken/pseuds/somehowunbroken
Summary: Tyson's got this ability, okay, where he can justintendthings into being. He doesn't use it for hockey, or for relationships. He's just trying to live his life.





	to direct the mind on

**Author's Note:**

> -tyson jost gave an interview in which he said that he was "all over" jt compher before game six, and said he told him he'd score two goals. he did. i started this immediately.

It's not that Tyson is psychic.

He's not, seriously. His sister is the psychic one, able to peek into the future and see what's about to be happening and report back. It's cool; it helped Tyson avoid a broken arm when he was eleven, heading out to play shinny with some buddies until Kacey grabbed his arm and told him to watch out for the kid across the street, because he was gonna do something bad. Sure enough, Tyson had kept his head up, and when the kid had come barrelling at him with his stick swinging, Tyson had already been skating away.

Anyway, the point is that being psychic is cool, but Tyson's not psychic.

-0-

The first time it happens, Tyson is so, so tired. Mommy's working late, and Grandpa is here watching them, and Tyson loves Kacey a lot but she's so _annoying_ , and he just wants to sleep but she's crying and crying and he just—

"Kacey," he says, flopping onto her bed. "Stop crying and go to _sleep_."

"Tyson," Grandpa says, and there's a stern note in his voice, but Kacey's sobs are getting quieter and her eyes are closing, and then she snuggles up and Tyson is back to loving her a whole lot now that she's not screaming anymore, so he hugs her and closes his eyes and doesn't think about the way Grandpa had looked at him, like he was surprised.

-0-

The fifth time it happens is the first time Tyson means for it to happen. 

Grandpa calls it _intending_ , but all Tyson knows is that sometimes when he says stuff, it just… happens, when it wasn't gonna happen before. Grandpa also says that he has to be really, really careful with it, because actions have consequences.

Whatever, Tyson thinks as he glares at his math test. He's going to _ace_ this test, because if he doesn't his grade is gonna drop, and if it drops he won't be able to play hockey, and _nothing_ is more important than playing hockey.

So. He's going to ace this test.

He thinks it really hard, tries to _intend_ it like Grandpa says, and he feels something weird in his stomach the harder he thinks about it. It's like he drank three cans of Coke in a row, fizzy and weird and a little like he has to burp. Finally he coughs, just once, and then his teacher hands out the test, and Tyson shows his work and writes down the answers and hands it in first.

He gets every answer right, even the extra credit. When he tries to do his homework that night, he still doesn't understand how to long divide.

-0-

He gets better at it, is the thing. Magic is, like, weird, and a lot of hard work, is what Tyson realises, but it's cool anyway. He learns that he can't just do anything at any time; Grandpa seems relieved about that, but Tyson thinks it's kind of annoying, personally. He can only make it work if he has the fizzy stomach feeling, and sometimes wanting something really badly makes it happen, but mostly it doesn't.

He thinks about how he could use it for hockey; it's kind of weird, trying to intend his way into the NHL, and after a few months of not being able to get the feeling to happen for anything other than having exact change in his pocket when he goes to buy some gum, he really sits down to think about it. It wouldn't be fair, he realises, and he's not sure he'd like it, knowing he got to the NHL by cheating. Even if it just gave him a little boost, or made a scout notice him when they weren't going to, Tyson thinks that he'd always know.

"I'm not gonna cheat to make the NHL," he says out loud. There's nobody in his bedroom with him, but he's not really sure if there's someone in charge of what he can do, so he feels like it's worth it to say it out loud. "I'm gonna make it all on my own."

-0-

He works his ass off. He goes to Penticton and plays as hard as he can. He does his best to be a good teammate, a good billet kid, and he doesn't mouth off when people ask pointed questions about him committing to UND over going to major juniors. He gets himself noticed, and the only things he does anything to influence are helping Dante's bruises heal a little faster than they should, because he's Tysons best friend and he's a good defenceman, and anyway, if Tyson's got this gift and he doesn't use it to help other people, then what's even the point? And Dante's got his back, too, always having exact change in his pocket when they stop for after-school snacks. Magic comes in all sorts of weird forms, Tyson's learning.

He plays. He skates.

He gets drafted, tenth overall, to the Colorado Avalanche.

He _smiles_.

-0-

The year Tyson spends at UND is awesome; he makes a bunch of friends, and he gets better at hockey, and he figures out something pretty freaking important about this whole intention thing: he was _totally right_ about how he should use it to help other people.

"Yo, Janny," he says, three games into the season and feeling it, feeling _good_ The fizzy feeling doesn't have a taste, but Tyson likes to think that if it did, it would be sweet. "Score me a hatty tonight, eh?"

"Score _you_ a hatty?" Janny asks. "Fuck you, I'll score _me_ a hatty."

Tyson coughs, just once, and grins.

One in the first. One in the second. One in the third, and Janny laughs and shoves at Tyson in the locker room, delight clear on his face. "Josty!"

"You did that for me," Tyson says, putting a hand over his heart and laughing when Janny shoves at this shoulder.

Janny laughs, and the next game Tyson tells Brock he'll pass to him if Brock can manage to score, and then it's a thing, trying to see how much of it he can get away with before someone notices and asks him if he's doing something. He doesn't ever intend a win, and he doesn't ever ask for anything for himself. It's tempting when they play Denver, because he knows that people from his new city will be watching; he intends a shutout, though, and winning by one goal is still a win, and he gets the secondary assist, so—

They lose to Boston in the first round of the playoffs, but it's enough. It'll be enough, because he gets a call from Joe Sakic almost as soon as the game is over, and then he's on a plane to Denver.

-0-

The Avs are having a bad season.

Or, like—

The Avs are having a season that's so bad Tyson doesn't really know how to quantify it, which is fine, because NHL Network and every online analyst is only too happy to point out that no team has ever actually had a _worse_ season. It's the kind of bad that gets you the first overall pick, except when Tyson looks himself in the mirror the night before his first game in an Avs sweater and thinks about it, nothing goes fizzy. His stomach drops a little, because that's not the kind of thing he'd like to guarantee for his team, not with his whole trying to be ethical about it thing, but knowing that they're not going to have a chance at it is really, really rough.

It's a whole lot of whatever, though, because Grandpa's in the crowd for Tyson's first home game, and for his first NHL goal, and he knows that Tyson's doing this all _himself_. It's probably the best feeling in the world, Tyson thinks, and then he gets into the locker room after the last game of the season and JT Compher grins at him and says they should maybe get a place together if they both stay up next year, and—

The fizzy feeling in Tyson's stomach has nothing to do with intention this time, he doesn't think, and he laughs and agrees.

-0-

The first year is good but the second year is better, settling into the city and the team and the house he and JT share with Kerfy. Tyson's living every single dream he's ever had, intending away the injuries he can and trying to at least ease the rest of them. They win and then they lose; Tyson goes to Loveland and then he comes back, and through it all, the most constant thing in Tyson's life is the way he feels when JT smiles at him, when he laughs, when he gets Tyson in a headlock and doesn't let go until Tyson's red-faced and laughing too hard to try to push him away anymore.

Tyson knows himself well enough to know what's going on; he knows that the not-fizzing in his stomach is more like the butterflies he's heard Kacey talk about, and he knows that his reaction to JT is the same as his reaction to Dante had been, except he thinks now he might be brave enough to do something about it. The only thing he'd ever sworn he'd never intend things about was his own hockey career, but when the idea crosses his mind now, he almost physically recoils from it. Another thing to add to his very short list, then; he wouldn't be able to live with himself if he made someone fall for him.

"No," he says out loud. He's mostly over thinking someone or something is controlling this whole thing, but it can't hurt anything, probably.

His phone rings and he answers it without looking at the screen; Kacey sets herself a new ringtone every time she's near Tyson's phone, and she's the only one who has a specific one set. "Hey," he says. "How's it going?"

"Ask him out," Kacey says briskly. "Soon, Tys."

Tyson does not drop his phone, which he thinks he should probably get credit for. "Uh?"

"Don't," Kacey says. "You and I both know you know I mean JT."

"Uh," Tyson says again. The butterflies are fluttering up a storm in his stomach. "You think I should?"

"Tyson," she says patiently. "You know I wouldn't tell you to go for it if I didn't know you'd end up happy doing it."

Tyson breathes out heavily. "I know."

"So ask him out," Kacey says again. "Before you go on the road trip."

"What, do I lose my chance?" Tyson asks, frowning.

"I have no idea," Kacey says. "But you know I can't look far, and you were at home, so…"

"So I should do it soon," Tyson finishes. "What was I wearing? What was he wearing? Give me deets, c'mon."

Kacey laughs. "All the deets you need are that you should ask him," she says. "I swear, Tys, it's like you don't trust me."

"I trust you," he says immediately. "You know it's not—"

"I know," Kacey cuts in patiently. "Make it so I pass my geology midterm next week and we'll be even, okay?"

Tyson laughs, and he can feel his stomach fizzing. "You'll pass," he says, coughing once.

"Thanks," she replies. "Get your man, love you lots!"

And she hangs up on him.

-0-

It takes him a little while to get his shit together, but Kacey said before the road trip, so three days after her call he takes a deep breath when JT walks into the kitchen. "Hey, so," he says, and the butterflies are back but so is Kacey's calm voice telling him to go for it. "I was thinking."

"Dangerous," JT says, almost on autopilot, and Tyson rolls his eyes as JT grins. "What about?"

"You," Tyson's mouth says without any input from his brain. "Or, like. Um."

JT's expression is a little surprised, a little cautious, but not in a bad way. "Me?"

"I just," Tyson says, shrugging a little and taking a step towards JT. "I like you. You're funny and you think you're not nice but you are, and you're cute as hell, and like. Wanna get dinner?"

JT looks down at Tyson's hands, where he is, admittedly, holding a box of KD that he was considering making for himself. "If that's your idea of first date food—"

"As if," Tyson scoffs. "This is what I was gonna make to pump myself up to ask you out, but you interrupted me." He shakes the box in JT's direction. "I would have asked so much better if I'd had my pregame meal."

JT snorts and takes a step closer to him. "Are you comparing asking me out to, like, playing the Ducks?"

"It is way easier to play the Ducks," Tyson says, nothing but honest. "Are you trying to not answer me here? Because, like, you can just say no. It's okay if you don't—"

JT takes two more steps, crossing the rest of the space between them, and leans in to kiss Tyson, short but firm. "I'm saying yes," he says, only pulling back enough to speak the words against Tyson's mouth. "But not to the KD. I have standards."

Tyson's smiling so hard his face hurts. "Not a good idea to date me, maybe, if you've got standards."

"I'll make it work," JT says, leaning back in to kiss him again, and Tyson decides that putting the KD on the counter so he can get his hands on JT's hips is the second-best decision he's made all day, right after following Kacey's advice.

-0-

"So I can, like," Tyson says. They've clinched the playoffs and it feels better than it did last year, feels like they might be able to actually get somewhere this year. "I can make things happen."

JT looks at him, a slight frown on his face. "Yeah?"

"Yeah, like," he says. He glances around, but nothing pops out at him until his gaze lands on the coffee table, where their dishes from lunch are still sitting. "If Kerfy was gonna stop somewhere, anywhere, and get food to bring home for you, what would you want?"

"That's a weird question," JT says.

"Anything local," Tyson says. "Not, like, something from a restaurant in Northbrook or whatever."

"A milkshake from Sonic?" JT says, like it's a question. "Chocolate peanut butter."

Tyson nods and reaches for the fizzy feeling. "Kerfy's gonna bring you a medium chocolate peanut butter milkshake from Sonic," he says, coughing.

JT's looking at him, a little weirded out. "I mean, we'll see," he says.

Tyson shrugs and puts his phone on the coffee table, mostly so JT can't accuse him of texting Kerfy in secret. "He will," he says. "That's how it works."

"You have, what," JT says, frowning. "Minor magic?"

"Yeah," Tyson confirms, shrugging. "It's not cool like Kacey's, but I can make stuff happen."

"And you think that's not cool?" JT asks, incredulous. "What the hell can Kacey do, if that's not cool?"

"See the future," Tyson says promptly. "Not too far, but she's good at it."

"Holy shit," JT says faintly. "You know that's super rare, right? Like, I've never actually met someone who has magic before?"

Tyson opens his mouth, ready to remind him about Zach Hyman, but then closes it again, considering. "You didn't know about me until five minutes ago," he points out instead. "I bet you've known other people."

"I guess," JT says. "I mean, wow, though."

"I'm just that awesome," Tyson says, grinning.

JT snorts. "That remains to be seen. We'll see if Kerf actually—"

"Hey," Kerfy yells, banging the front door open. "Had this random urge to stop at Sonic, so I got you assholes milkshakes. Please don't be making out when I get in there and we'll call it even."

Tyson laughs as a grin spreads slowly over JT's face. "You were saying?"

"That you're awesome or whatever," JT says, and honestly, Tyson will take it.

-0-

Tyson's stomach is tied in knots too much in the first round of the playoffs to intend anything; they're here, and nobody is expecting them to do shit, but everyone in the locker room is determined to prove that nebulous _everyone_ wrong. Tyson's pretty sure they can do it, too, even if he can't do anything about it himself.

"Ready to win?" Nate asks him before the third game, elbowing Tyson lightly in the side. They're in the locker room, waiting to go out, and Tyson can hear the Pepsi Center roaring for them.

"I am," Tyson says. They did it last game, and he's got a good feeling about this one.

Nate grins at him. It's not often that Tyson notices Nate's magic, because it's more of a blessing than anything he can do things with purposely, but right now his eyes are glowing faintly and there's something sort of ethereal about him. "You'd better be."

Tyson laughs and elbows Nate, and—

They don't stop winning, and then they've done what nobody thought they could do, and Tyson laughs and laughs as he looks around the locker room after game five.

"We're gonna give the Sharks hell," he says, coughing, and JT looks at him and _smiles_.

-0-

"You're not, like," JT says, frowning. He doesn't keep going, but Tyson waits him out, because he knows that it's definitely the better option than pushing JT. He's a great person, a better boyfriend than Tyson knows what to do with some days, but he's definitely got kind of a short fuse. Whatever, nobody's perfect. "You're not making us win? We're doing this on our own?"

"We are," Tyson assures him, scooting a little closer to him on the sofa. "I don't—I only mess with hockey in little ways. Trying to get someone a goal when they've been in a slump forever, getting Grubi an assist because it's funny, that kind of thing. Whether we win or lose, though, that's—I wouldn't fuck with that. We need to do it ourselves."

"Okay," JT says, expression clearing. "I figured you wouldn't, but I figured I'd check."

"And like," Tyson adds, because JT hadn't asked, but it's important he knows anyway, "I didn't do anything with us, and I never will."

JT laughs. "I've been into you for longer than I want to talk about, so I kinda figured it wasn't you, but thanks."

Tyson grins and moves, shifting so he's straddling JT's thighs. "Really? How long?"

"Get me a goal tonight and maybe I'll tell you," JT says, grinning back.

Tyson leans in and kisses him. "You'll get two," he says, turning his head to cough away the fizzy feeling, and JT rests his hands on Tyson's hips and smiles up at him.

-0-

Game seven is—

JT curls his arm around Tyson's shoulders, presses a kiss to his forehead. Tyson knows he's a hot mess right now, because he can't keep his emotions all bottled up and they're currently deciding to show themselves by making tears spill down his cheeks. It's hockey, and losing is a part of it, and Tyson knows that in a few days, a week, he'll be past it, ready to move on to the next thing. Right now, though, it's too much for him to handle, so he buries his face in JT's shoulder and draws breath after shuddery breath.

"Next year," JT says, face pressed into Tyson's hair. "Next year we'll do better."

Tyson draws in a breath and nods. "Next year," he says, because that's the only thing he can manage right now. It's not a promise, not an intention he can make and not one he would anyway, but it's the thing to say right now.

JT rocks them back and forth a little and doesn't say anything else.

-0-

"I'll see you over the summer," Tyson promises. His bags are packed for Worlds, because he's itching to get a stick back into his hands, play a little longer before he settles into his summer.

"You definitely will," JT says. He's going to Vegas with a bunch of the guys, and Tyson doesn't blame him. Everyone needs to decompress in their own way. "Win silver, okay?"

"Silver?" Tyson asks, laughing. "What, you don't want me to win gold?"

"USA Hockey is do or die," JT says solemnly, but then he grins. "Promise me we'll see each other over the summer."

Tyson steps into his space, resting his hands on JT's hips. "I can do you one better," he says, turning his head to cough once before leaning up to kiss him.

**Author's Note:**

> -they're very cute! kerfy despairs!!!!
> 
> -follow me on twitter, but tell me who you are! i don't accept random follower requests.


End file.
